SEPTEMBER 209 



his ofiSce — Deccmus. How came the serious Scandi- 

 navian to light upon the name of Vanessa for a 

 butterfly? And Atalanta? True, the Red Admiral's 

 flight is strong and fairly swift — for a butterfly ; but 

 not nearly so swift as that of Vanessa lo, the Peacock 

 butterfly. The connection between Red Admirals and 

 nettles is as indissoluble as that between human admirals 

 and the ocean. If we could rid the land of nettles, as 

 many of us have said in our haste we would fain do, 

 there would be an end to our gay Red Admirals, for it 

 is on that maHgnant herb that their caterpillars feed. 

 So do those of the Peacock and Small Tortoise-shell 

 butterflies ; indeed, the last-named insect is scientifically 

 known as Vanessa urticcB — Vanessa of the nettle. It 

 is not a little remarkable that these three butterflies, 

 which are more richly painted than most things that 

 thrive under our petulant skies, should all be nurtured 

 upon a plant that everybody detests. 



The gorgeous Peacock butterfly is uncommon in 

 Scotland, more's the pity ; nor is it easy to account for 

 this, seeing that the nettle is as irrepressible in that 

 land as anywhere. Even more to be deplored is the 

 total absence of that charming harbinger of spring, 

 the Brimstone butterfly (Oonepteryx rhamni). It is 

 no question of latitude or temperature that deprives 

 Scotsmen of this lovely insect, for it is common further 

 north in Norway. The reason for its absence is that 

 the caterpillar feeds exclusively on the two species of 

 buckthorn (Bhamnus frangula and R. catharticus), 

 both of which are exceedingly rare, if indeed they are 

 anywhere indigenous, in Scotland. One morning lately 



o 



